The Girls On the Deck
I am remembering this time a significant other of mine told me this story once about “the girls on the deck”- as I have titled it. I am paraphrasing here but the story pretty much goes like this:
He is at a party – any party, really…as it is my understanding that this was not a one-off event but rather a process of elimination or identification that took place – well – more than once. The number of times is actually pretty irrelevant here as I think about it. He is more than likely drunk and/or under the influence of something and he is horny. He is an extremely good looking, charming, and easy to be with young man. Maybe that last part about his personality traits is my own projection because he is definitely all of those things as an adult. I wasn’t there – so, I suppose I don’t really know. Ok, dammit – focus…
This drunk and horny young man also has a bit of a reputation – although that isn’t good or bad…the truth is he is an amazing being and has a beautiful heart. That said, again, we are talking about a teenage version of him who liked sleeping with females. Really, no judgement on that…I mean, sex is amazing. Anyhoo – let’s get back to it.
He would be at a party and horny as I mentioned before. There would be a deck full of young women, hanging out, enjoying the party, and likely looking for some physical connection as well. As he would approach each of them separately, he would request whatever it was he was looking for - - - “wanna fuck?” “wanna fool around” – you get it. Inevitably – based on who he asked and perhaps how they felt about being “that girl” for the evening – he would get his fair share of “no thanks” and then keep it moving, asking the next and the next, until he got a yes. *Score* and lather, rinse, repeat.
Pretty straight forward and as he told me the story, I laughed my damn ass off. I found it more than kind of hilarious because – I mean – again, we are talking about a young horny dude and basically, he is playing his odds. He ain’t forcing anyone to do anything – he is intoxicated. I can only imagine what it all looked like in real life in comparison to what it looked like in his head at the time. And for clarity, hilarity to me is seldom “funny” in the traditional sense of funny. So, I don’t want anyone reading this to think I am minimizing anyone’s feelings or experiences here. I am not minimizing that for the girls, and I am not minimizing that for him. There are indicators of a lot of pain that being navigated by all parties. Just know that I am aware of that. And, even with that awareness, I wasn’t bowled over or “offended” by the story – nor did I sit in harsh judgement of him.
The thing is that most people – even as they have moved into their adult years – don’t have the courage to share that kind of story. Fear of being considered an asshole or a slut or whatever other weighted down with shame title they have applied to it, it is my experience that many people keep that shit to themselves. So, I also applaud the courage it took for him to tell me the story. He isn’t really the point of me writing this – my focal point is really the girls on the deck – though my connection and experiences with him weaves in here and are relevant. We will get to that later.
The truth is that I have been that girl. Wrestling with self esteem issues and navigating raging hormones that are both excitement and crazy making. Likely – based on statistics with young women in that age range – dealing with various traumas that they have already experienced. Been there. By that age, I was a card-carrying victim of sexual trauma and looking for Prince Charming to come and sweep me off my feet and love me so hard that I could find it in myself to love me too. Even if Prince Charming was a drunk horny dude at a party or any other comparable scenario. Now, deck or no deck, I have been that girl. When I would be approached with such an offer, I would jump on it. Not with just “anyone” – no, generally the guy I felt was out of my league and my story was that I was going to be so amazing that just like that, he would also be swept off his feet. Que the wedding bells in my head and off we went to do whatever our drunk asses could manage to do. Maybe it would be a one-night thing – maybe it would be a short-lived love story. Either way, the point is that it was a destined to blow up in my face dumpster fire waiting to happen- because my reason for why I said yes so many times is because – inside my being - I felt like I didn’t deserve any better. I wish I could say that I recognized that back then but if I had I wouldn’t have been in that position as many times as I have been in my life. And I have been in that position a number of times and not just in my teens.
See, the thing is – we carry behaviors for coping with the feelings, experiences, and traumas that we cannot release for as long as we carry them until we begin to unpack and heal them. So, this coping mechanism has been with me for a very long time.
I carried the coping mechanism of sex or sexual contact as a way to numb my feelings of lack, a way to validate my worth in a relationship and in – well – life. I carried it to make myself feel powerful when I knew I was in a position of weakness. I wore it as a badge of honor and framed it out like it was the only thing I was truly good at or the only measure of my value. When something – not even sexually related per se – would happen, that I could not find the courage, ability, or strength to sit with…yup, sex. And not just any sex. I am not bagging on sex – it’s fucking amazing. Nope, specifically sex that I knew was out of alignment with what I actually needed or actually wanted in those moments when I reached for it as an anesthetic, rather than a healthy connection that people get to share. I also used sex to manipulate my way into or out of situations. Want to get that person to like me?? Let’s fuck. Didn’t wanna have that vulnerable and hard conversation because I wasn’t ready to own my shit? Let’s fuck. Didn’t wanna do the work to fix malalignments in relationships? Let’s fuck. I could create a pretty extensive list of the ways I used it and allowed it to use me – and – I think you get the gist, even without said extensive list. So, still in my adulthood – there I have been – one of the “girls on the deck.”
All along, I thought I was waiting for my Prince Charming. Well, Prince or Princess Charming but let’s not even jump down that rabbit hole because it ain’t that important. All along I believed, on some level, that I couldn’t get MYSELF to a place of wholeness – that instead, I had to wait for that exactly right person to come along and love me so hard that all my “broken” pieces would magically stick back together and I would be whole again. Whelp – lemme tell you…that idea is bullshit. It is bullshit dressed up as some sexy ass medicine - but bullshit, nonetheless.
As I type this – all I can feel in my heart for all the girls who have been “girls on the deck” is compassion. And let’s not get it twisted – this whole thing could center around compassion for boys on the deck or boys looking for girls on the deck. I mean, we are all a little fucked up and so many of us use our bodies as the sacrifice we think we need to make to make it all feel better. I am here to tell you that we do not have to sacrifice our bodies. I am here to tell you that when we do, we ADD to the pain, angst, trauma and pile of unhealed wounds – not subtract. We are not required to sacrifice ourselves nor will doing so be a magic moment that pieces it all back together for us to feeling and BEing whole.
Let me say again – because I think it is really important to make this clear – sex is not BAD. Sex can be the most beautiful and wonderful expression and celebration of being alive. Sex can help us explore parts of us that we didn’t even know existed, let alone had access to. Sex is – in my humble opinion – one of the (at minimum) top three reasons that we humans even sign our soul contracts before coming into form. And why not?!? If we have to endure the lifeiness of living a human existence – the fact that we get to experience sex is the least we can get out of the deal. So – I am pretty sure my point is clear – sex isn’t the bad guy here. The bad guy can be WHY we choose to use it.
Anyway, back to my girls…
So – having carried this coping mechanism with me for a fuckin lifetime of repeated re-traumatization, I finally dove into healing those parts of me that needed my attention in order to get past this toxic coping mechanism. I mean, it didn’t go away over night nor am I convinced it is ALL THE WAY gone but I am extremely aware of the work that has been done and how much smaller it is than it used to be and how much more it used to weigh.
Let’s bring the above mentioned significant other back into the story…I think this is a relevant time to weave all of this together into my present moment and discuss the dis-integration and re-integration of self worth that has happened as a result of this experience of hearing his story.
He and I dove hot, heavy, and deep into a pool of connection, love, lust and life plan making really quickly into our relationship. REALLY quickly. This will be the length of a book (hmmmm, maybe it should be) if I go into all of the ins and out of how our dance of meeting and connecting went but really, I think I can make the point I need to make without doing that today. Maybe another time if I feel an entire book needs to be unpacked but for today, let’s just say – we dove WAY into the deep end and that deep end was fucking magnificent. More expansive than anything I have ever experienced before and more fulfilling than anything I have words for. Like eating mangos from the Garden of Eden – because I really don’t think apples would be that sexy to anyone. But, I digress. I had arrived. I had found “the one.” I had experienced a depth of love and connection that I didn’t even know existed in fairy tales or anywhere else for that matter. I was living while bathing in the liquid moonlight of it all and it felt not only divine but it felt like divinity embodied in connection that was crafted from the element of fire. JEEEESUS – I can feel it all right now as I type.
As many relationships that start with such a quick burning fire go, we hit a really huge hurdle and *screeching brakes* I found myself navigating the confusion of a tangible and palpable pull back from him that was not yet being articulated. Changes in body language and love language – not holding me as close, not kissing me as passionately, not telling me how much he loved and adored me and how beautiful he thought I was. Man – did my own girl on the deck show up?!?! Yes! She was pissing in my ear about my worth, my value, my place, my, my, my all the things. I tried to brush her away and tell her to shut the fuck up by assuring her that everything was fine and that she was making up stories.
Until he and I had THE conversation…
See, the pull back was a physical manifestation of a process that he was navigating about things that came up for him as opportunities to heal. Those things aren’t mine to share and aren’t really relevant. They are big things that are to be kept in a sacred container and I honor him and that container – so, don’t ask…it is non ya business. Suffice to say we had the – at the bottom line – the “I don’t know what I want and need space” conversation alongside clarifying things that he didn’t want. I can’t say that I remember what I was feeling in that exact moment. Mostly I was navigating the pain of numbness…if you have ever been there, you get it. Numb isn’t the absence of pain, in my opinion. Numb is a pain that is so great it can only be felt through the act of not feeling on a physical level.
I engage in self-care and healing a lot and I know what I need to do to help support myself even before the feeling of pain arrives – so, I reached out to a healer friend of mine, and we went through a reading and that reading gave me the information I needed to begin my process of identifying the root issues in ME. Releasing, rewriting, and reassuring myself that – no matter what – I got me. Next came the pain that broke through and the very next day I was a hot fuckin mess of emotions. So many emotions punching me in the face at the same time that I would have sworn I was surrounded. The number of versions of my own “girls on the deck” that were screaming at me were so many that I cannot even count them. Suffice to say there was a chorus line of girls and they were all trying to kick that present version of me in the face.
What I began to notice is that I wasn’t mad at them. I wasn’t trying to convince them to shut up or go away. What I noticed is that instead of doing what I have done before, I allowed myself to FEEL their pain and have so much compassion for them and the pain that it allowed me to open my heart to them more. That opening also allows my current self to open my heart more. I allowed myself to sit with them. To hear them. To validate to them. To hug them and love them and to tell them, “I see you and I love you and I know you are hurting, and I am sorry for my part in hurting you” – no matter when that self-hurting took place. I did this slowly and mindfully and one at a time, I could see them transmuting into light and letting themselves dis-integrate from my present being…they knew they were safe with me because I have done the work to make that so.
And then I was left with one. The youngest one. The one who – because of her experiences - created this coping mechanism. She felt like it kept her safe from feeling the magnitude of trauma she was being asked, shit forced, to carry. Trauma she didn’t ask for and trauma she didn’t deserve. I looked at her and I allowed her to just BE without trying to change anything about her or blame her or shame her. I just held her tenderness in the light of the expansiveness of my love and I told her how much I love her and how I know she deserved more than the experience she had that made her believe that her body was made for sacrifice. That she deserved more than me forcing her to carry that blame and shame for all those years I did not have the courage to do the healing necessary to set her free. That I was sorry for not always seeing her as the perfect little divine being that she has always been. I asked for her forgiveness, and I assured her that I would sit with her until she felt safe enough to receive my love for her. She looked up at me, tear-stained eyes and asked:
“Do I have to stay here?”
“Where?” – I asked
“On the deck” – she replied
*I took a deep breath as I looked at her adoringly*
“No, baby. Come with me. I got you. You don’t ever have to come back here again, I promise.” - I spoke from my heart to hers
I took her hand and we walked away together. Her with me, where she now knows she is safe.
It is relevant to point out that earlier I said that I am “not convinced that it is all the way gone” and where that is true, this younger version of myself knows and trusts that I can navigate triggers without putting her back under that weight. She knows I will engage in the work necessary to allow that to be what is true. It is a contract I signed with her and it is one that she knows I will honor.
Here is what I know about myself and this present version of myself - today, as I sit and type this out…
No matter what happens in my life and in my relationships…I am NO LONGER one of "the girls on the deck" and I intend to honor myself - and all of those old versions of myself - accordingly.
